TITLE: Of Masks and Men
CHARACTER/S: Yoh, mention of Fei Long and Asami, original characters
RATING: PG 13
SPOILERS/WARNINGS: Partly set during the Naked Truth arc.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: We often joke about how expressionless Yoh can be. We know the reason but I wondered if I could elaborate on it. Here's what I came up with.
DISCLAIMER: Yoh, Fei Long, Asami and the wonderful world of Viewfinder are the creations of Yamane Ayano.
Nine years ago
Men with guns came in the dead of the night and dragged them from their bunks. Some of those who had been abruptly and rudely awakened tried to fight, but rifle butts to the head and several bloody noses discouraged resistance. With shoves and shouted threats, they were herded toward the upper deck of the barge.
Yoh wondered if they had been boarded by other smugglers. A course had been set the night before that was farther out than the usual route, but he had been unable to find out why. Had they blundered into another smuggler's territory?
Up on the wind-whipped deck, the men huddled close together for warmth, maybe even solidarity. Many looked confused, others worried. And underneath it all was the tremor of fear.
Yoh glanced around surreptitiously, counting men, counting guns, marking the exits. He also tried to spot his old mentor, Fujihiro. If anybody knew what was going on, it would be him. Asami's most trusted lieutenant in Hong Kong, Fujihiro had helped Yoh infiltrate the Black Lotus a little more than a year ago.
The whispers around him grew louder and Yoh looked up to see Shingo, leader of the Black Lotus, step onto the deck. He didn't look like a captive. In fact, with the way he was tossing orders around, Shingo looked very much in command. But who were the men with guns?
Yoh's blood chilled as realization dawned. Outsiders. The boss had brought in outsiders. There was only one reason to do that. It meant Shingo didn't trust the men on his boat. Shingo suspected there was a traitor.
His first instinct was to make a break for it. He let the panic run wild within him for 30 seconds. Then he took a deep breath. Slowly, cool and deliberately he brought his emotions under control. There was nothing to indicate that he had been found out. No need to take action. Yet.
As Yoh watched, Shingo turned to one of the men with guns and said something. Yoh thought he faintly heard "bring him up." Him who? Around Yoh, the whispers grew louder and more agitated.
Then they stopped.
A man— or what was left of one — was dragged and dumped in front of Shingo. From the awkward way his legs and arms stuck out, Yoh knew they'd been broken. And on his body and face, at least the parts not covered by blood, were bruises of black and blue, testament to severe beating.
Fujihiro was still alive. Barely. Shingo swung his foot and sound of it colliding with Fujihiro's gut was sickening. Yoh unconsciously took a step towards his friend. When Shingo gave the older man another kick in the ribs, Yoh almost screamed.
Other men fell to their knees and began chanting softly, "Mercy. Mercy."
Shingo held up his hand and the voices ceased. "This man is a traitor. He pretended to be one of us, but he is not. Does he still deserve mercy?" he shouted.
Shingo scoured the face of every man, as if daring them to ask for mercy again. Then he took out a gun and pointed it at Fujihiro's head.
"Mercy then."
Yoh woke up with a jerk, the scream trapped in his throat. Somewhere far away, the sound of a gunshot continued to reverberate. After a few deep breaths, the blood thundering in his ears eased somewhat.
He was safe. It was just a dream.
He lifted an unsteady hand to rub his face, as if to wipe away the lingering images from his mind. But the nightmare's hold wouldn't loosen. He could still see the gun. The flash of gunfire. The broken body tossed in the water.
He cast the thin blanket aside, and on shaky limbs, made his way to the bathroom. With no clothes to shed, Yoh ducked under the shower and turned it full blast with a flick of his wrist. The water was cold at first and gradually warmed until it reached just short of scalding. Even then, it took several long minutes before Yoh felt the chill wash out of his body.
He hadn't had the dream in years. But it didn't surprise him that the memory visited him again now. His position in the Baishe household had become precarious with Fei Long's kidnapping of Takaba Akihito. Asami was pressuring him to take the boy and leave.
If only it were that simple.
Yoh stepped out of the shower and dried his head and body briskly with a towel. After wrapping the towel around his waist, he went straight to the small closet filled with black suits.
He didn't want Fei Long to know he was a traitor, even though that was exactly what he was. How did Shingo put it? Someone who pretended to be one of them, but who most certainly was not. He didn't want Fei Long to think ill of him. If there was one way to return Takaba to Asami without blowing his cover, he'd find it.
In front of a full length mirror, he pulled on black trousers. Then he shrugged into a white dress shirt. With every piece of clothing, he buried who he was. With every piece of clothing, he hid the man who'd witnessed one of his closest friends murdered and then had walked away. He lived a lie. A lie that, if he wasn't careful, could be detected with a word, a look or a flash of emotion. A secret whose revelation means the end of his life.
After looping a nondescript tie around his neck and putting on the jacket, he moved closer to the mirror and searched his face for anything the nightmare might have left behind. Slowly, cool and deliberately he schooled his expression until there was no hint of emotion left. Then he turned to leave his room and begin his day in service of the Baishe — mask firmly in place.
The End